


Soaring

by Salmon_Pink



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Community: ladiesbingo, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash Friday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 22:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6060562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaydel Ko Connix is not a fan of flying. So it's probably not the smartest idea for her to fall for a<i> pilot</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soaring

**Author's Note:**

> Character spoilers for _The Force Awakens_. Set before _The Force Awakens_. Written for [Ladies Bingo](http://ladiesbingo.dreamwidth.org/), prompt "soldier, sailor, airman: armed forces member", for the [Star Wars Fruitbowl Femslash Challenge](http://starwarsfruitbowl.dreamwidth.org/580.html), for [Femslash February](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/femslash-february), and for [Femslash Friday](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/femslash-friday).

The hangar is a bustling hive of excited noises and engines powering down. The completed mission was fairly straightforward reconnaissance, but the pilots involved have been gone for over three weeks, so they’re greeted back with hearty cheers. 

These days, _any_ mission that goes well, no matter how seemingly simple, is met with celebration.

Figures in orange clump together, and even from where she’s standing, out on the flat runway and acceptably far from the hangar doors, Kaydel can hear whoops as the pilots run through their post-mission chanting.

She squints a little, trying not to be too conspicuous. Inside the hangar they’re all in a group, clapping each other on the back, some still wearing their helmets. But Kaydel still manages to catch a glimpse of a wide smile and long dark hair.

Her heart flutters. Kaydel wonders if anyone around her can tell.

And then she realises there _isn’t_ anyone around her - she’s standing on the runway alone, staring into the hangar, still mid-step from when she’d gotten distracted by the pilots and with her datapad awkwardly held out in front of her.

She marches stiffly away, thankful that at least there’s nobody there to see her face heat up.

*

The mess hall is noisier than usual. The pilots’ tables are rowdy, and Kaydel can see flasks being discreetly passed under the between seats.

Technically alcohol should be kept to the lounge area, but nobody comments on it. Commander Dameron, in particular, seems to be determined not to notice the infraction, despite the fact that Captain Wexley is sat opposite him drinking freely and deeply.

“They’re in a good mood,” Pamich comments from across Kaydel’s table, smiling as the pilots jostle each other good-naturedly.

Across the mess, Jessika Pava throws her head back and laughs.

“Yes, they’re good,” Kaydel says. “Um, in a good mood, I mean.” She shoves her fork into her mouth, staring down at her plate, ignoring Pamich’s smirk.

*

Kaydel Ko Connix does _not_ and has _never_ liked to fly. 

Sure, flight is a necessity for star-travel, but it’s never been something she enjoys. Larger cruisers are tolerable - the bigger the ship, the less she can feel the sensation of hurtling through open space. But the few times the Resistance has been forced to abandon a base in a hurry and Kaydel’s wound up on a smaller transport, it’s been everything she could do to keep down her lunch.

X-wings are the living embodiment of a nightmare, as far as she’s concerned.

Up close like this, they seem dauntingly large, oversized metal beasts that tower over her. But on her screen during battle, they’re so _tiny_ , fast-moving dots that speed at much larger shapes as if they don’t understand how small and fragile they really are.

“You okay there?” a warm voice asks, and Kaydel’s head whips around, her arms clutching her datapad to her chest.

Jessika’s hair is pulled back in a messy bun, her face heart-stoppingly _gorgeous_ , even though she looks pale and tired.

The whole hangar is kind of subdued. The usual whirring of tools and bright chatter is missing. The ground crew moves quietly, the pilots move sluggishly. Lieutenant Bastian has the blast shield of his helmet down, leaning heavily against his ship - Kaydel has a sneaking suspicion he’s actually sleeping standing up.

Clearly the celebrations went on long into the night.

“Your report,” Kaydel manages, feeling like she’s intruding somehow. “I just need you to sign off on a couple of details.” She belatedly realises she’s still hugging the datapad and holds it out instead, except the movement is so abrupt that she almost smacks Jessika in the chest with it.

She somehow resists the urge to follow this up by smacking _herself_ with it. 

Repeatedly. 

In the face.

Jessika takes the datapad without comment, scrolling through the text, and Kaydel fixes her eyes on the nearest X-wing, because the alternative is staring at the way a lock of hair has escaped its hold and is swinging gently against Jessika’s face.

“You like the ships, huh?” 

Kaydel blinks in confusion, and then realises that, okay, she’s been looking at the X-wing _really_ intently.

“They’re, uh,” she mutters, and then Jessika smiles at her, and Kaydel’s mouth blurts out, “ _pretty_.”

Jessika’s eyebrows raise. Kaydel takes the datapad back and flees so quickly she’s not entirely sure she remembered to say “thank you” or “goodbye” or “I’m not a total nerfherder, I promise”.

*

Kaydel avoids the hangar after that. Well, ‘avoids’ is a strong term, because there’s not really any reason for her to be there in the first place. Even asking Jessika to sign off on the report hadn’t actually been a necessity - it could have easily waited until that afternoon’s debriefing.

Avoiding the pilots is trickier. And Kaydel isn’t really trying that hard, if she’s being honest. Whenever she catches sight of the colour orange she’s instantly distracted, fighting with herself over whether she should glance over and see who it is, or if she should resist the temptation and focus on her work.

More often than not, the orange isn’t even a flightsuit. It’s not like the pilots wear them every waking second.

It’s probably time to admit things have gotten out of control when Kaydel spends ten solid minutes forcing herself not to look at the orange in her peripheral vision, only to realise it’s just the evening sun hitting a _wall_.

“Would you go _talk_ to her already?” Pamich sighs the next day, watching how Kaydel’s standing perfectly still and straight in an effort to keep her head from instinctively turning toward the pilots walking past them.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kaydel hisses, doing a terrible job of pretending she’s not listening for the sound of Jessika’s voice.

*

The buzz of engines in the hangar is so different to the hum of Kaydel’s consoles. She finds the latter soothing, a soft and constant noise that helps block out everything but the data in front of her.

The engines, by contrast, sound loud and angry, even when the ships are still.

There are a lot of people around - Blue Squadron is heading out soon, running interference for a transport mission. Last minute checks are being held, people are shouting across the wide space, droids are rushing around between ships.

Kaydel’s looking for Jessika, and regretting it more and more by the second.

She doesn’t really _know_ Jessika, no matter how much she might want to. It seems ridiculous that she should be here in what is essentially pilot territory. She must look as out-of-place as Jessika would look hanging around Kaydel’s workstation. 

Or maybe Jessika would look perfectly at ease like that, as if she belonged. Maybe it’s just _Kaydel_ who’s awkward the moment she’s even the slightest bit out of her element.

“Just tell her ‘good luck’,” Pamich had insisted. “That’s all you have to say, honest.”

It had actually seemed like a good idea that morning, wired on two cups of caf and Pamich’s encouragement. Now she’s in the hangar, Kaydel’s pretty sure it’s the worst idea she’s ever heard, but she’s in too deep to leave.

Because Jessika just noticed her, and she’s smiling, and there’s officially no turning back.

After a horrifying moment where Kaydel realises she’s completely forgotten how to walk naturally, or _at all_ , she manages to make her way across the hangar. Jessika has a streak of oil across her cheek, a dirty rag thrown over her shoulder, and she’s so effortlessly beautiful that Kaydel can’t even look her in the eye.

“Hey, Connix, what’s up?” Jessika says, and for some reason just the fact that she knows Kaydel’s _name_ is the most amazing thing in the galaxy.

The most amazing and the most terrifying, and Kaydel’s mouth is opening but no sound is coming out.

Jessika tilts her head, like she’s waiting patiently, which is impossible because the silence feels so long and bleak that nobody could _ever_ wait through it patiently. Especially not Kaydel, or her stupid traitorous mouth, because before she knows it she’s saying, “Commander Dameron is looking for you.”

Oh no, oh _stars_.

“He was asking after you,” Kaydel babbles, because somehow she is _still_ talking, still _lying_. “So I wanted to tell you. That. About him looking for you.”

Jessika nods and then, to Kaydel’s horror, turns her head and calls, “You looking for me, Poe?”

She’s talking to Commander Dameron. 

Who is just the other side of her ship.

Kaydel watches his head crane around the X-wing’s nose, feeling like everything is happening in slow motion.

“Pretty sure you’re right where I left you two minutes ago, Jess,” he says, like Jessika is being weird on purpose when, no, that’s all Kaydel.

Jessika jerks a thumb in her direction. “Connix said you were looking for me.”

Maybe the X-wing will fall over and squish Kaydel flat and put her out of her misery. She’s always suspected a ship will the death of her, she just thought it’d be _flying_ at the time.

Commander Dameron frowns as he glances between the two of them, but then his face breaks into a smile. “Oh yeah, I was looking for you earlier. Forgot about that.” He beams at Kaydel like he’s proud of her for delivering his message, despite the message never existing in the first place. “Thanks, Lieutenant.”

Kaydel squeaks out something that could be gratitude or just a random high-pitched noise, and leaves the hangar as quickly as possible without actually breaking into a sprint.

*

Blue Squadron are gone, and Kaydel’s head is on the table.

“It couldn’t have been _that_ bad,” Pamich insists. 

Kaydel just moans pitifully. 

“At least Dameron covered for you,” she adds.

Kaydel sighs and closes her eyes.

“Unless he told Pava that there wasn’t really any message once you’d left,” Pamich muses.

Kaydel whimpers.

“Do you want my dessert?” Pamich offers.

Kaydel eats it without lifting her head.

*

Sometimes Kaydel likes to port her work to a datapad and find somewhere quiet to sit. She wouldn’t do it with any sensitive information, of course, but for the more mundane tasks, like shifting through the holonet for propaganda sources, it’s perfectly acceptable.

It’s something that helps her think, or just breaks up the monotony of a long day. It’s certainly not about _hiding_ , and there’s definitely no correlation between the return of Blue Squadron and Kaydel holing herself up in a storage room. None at all.

She’s perched on a crate, knees drawn up and datapad balanced across her thighs, when the door slides open and Jessika’s head peers in. 

Kaydel drops her datapad. Of _course_ she does.

“Ah, Nerro said you might be here,” Jessika says, and then she’s striding forward, holding out a datacard between them. “Here’s my report.”

Kaydel stares at the datacard, then up at Jessika’s face. “Why are you giving this to _me_?” she says, and one day she’ll learn to think before she talks, but that’s clearly not happening any time soon.

Jessika just shrugs. “You usually handle my reports, so I figured it was easier to just give it to you directly.”

It’s true, Kaydel _does_ usually handle her reports. Mostly because Pamich nudges them her way with a knowing look.

Jessika waves the datacard a little, and Kaydel realises she should probably take it.

Their fingers brush. It’s humiliating how much it makes Kaydel’s pulse start hammering.

Jessika gives her a playful little salute and turns to leave, and Kaydel’s mouth betrays her again by yelping, “Wait!”

Jessika looks back at her. She’s still in her flightsuit, her hair still ruffled from her helmet. She must have come straight from the hangar to hand over this report. 

“Welcome back,” Kaydel says, and she’d thought Jessika’s smiles were amazing already, but this one is _dazzling_.

Kaydel’s heart keeps racing, even when Jessika’s long gone, holding the datacard so tightly it leaves lines imprinted across her palm.

*

Pamich makes a really strange sound, like she’s trying to clear her throat whilst chewing a mouthful of food, and for a moment Kaydel thinks she’s choking. But Pamich’s eyes flick pointedly to a space just over Kaydel’s shoulder, and when she turns she finds Jessika looking down at her.

It’s lucky Kaydel doesn’t have her own mouthful of food, or _she’d_ be the one choking.

“The report all good?” Jessika asks conversationally, like she stops by Kaydel’s table everyday, instead of this being the very first time ever.

Kaydel almost jerks out of her chair, but Jessika isn’t her commanding officer and she isn’t sure her legs would support her anyway.

“Yes, the report, it was good,” Kaydel says earnestly. “All good. Excellent, actually. It was - it was good. Yeah.”

Jessika looks satisfied with her answer, which makes one of them. She nods to Pamich, both a hello and goodbye, and then she’s heading across the mess for her own table. Kaydel watches her walk, watches the swing of her hips, before she catches herself and snaps her attention back to her meal.

“Wow, that was like watching speeders colliding,” Pamich comments, and Kaydel glowers over the table and flicks vegetables at her.

She risks another glance across the hall. Commander Dameron is saying something, and Jessika elbows him in the ribs and laughs. 

“Tell me I didn’t have anything in my teeth,” Kaydel moans.

Pamich looks at her solemnly. “I am genuinely tempted to say you did, just to see you panic.”

Kaydel flicks more vegetables at her.

*

She’s back in the hangar, because apparently she’s a glutton for punishment. There aren’t that many people around, which means that there are less people for Kaydel to embarrass herself in front of, but also means her presence is more obviously foreign and wrong.

But she’s here, and she’s rehearsed what she’s going to say, and Kaydel isn’t going to waste that hour spent in front of a mirror repeating herself over and over.

Jessika’s wearing dark trousers and a faded grey tank top, her arms and the skin over her collarbone shining a little with perspiration, and Kaydel’s rehearsals suddenly don’t feel _nearly_ thorough enough.

“You okay there, Connix?” Jessika says by way of greeting, and Kaydel takes a deep breath in through her nose, and nods.

“I just wanted to thank you for bringing your report to me,” she recites, carefully keeping her tone light, just like she practiced. “In future, I’d be happy to come collect it from you. You know, so that you don’t have to go looking for me all over the base.”

Jessika seems to consider it, and Kaydel tries not to get distracted by the lines of her neck. “If you’d rather,” Jessika nods. “It’d give you a chance to come check out the ships, wouldn’t it?”

Kaydel glances up at the X-wing. It looks as dangerous and threatening as ever.

“I _do_ love starships,” she makes herself say, fingernails digging into her palms.

Jessika pats the X-wing’s hull affectionately. “You know, I never thought about it before you said it,” she admits, one side of her mouth tilting up, “but they _are_ pretty. Once you pay attention and really _look_ at them.”

Kaydel’s fingernails dig in even harder. “Yeah, they, uh, have nice designs,” she agrees.

“Maybe I could take you up flying sometime?” Jessika offers. “In one of the B-wings? We’ve got some two-seaters.”

Kaydel Ko Connix does _not_ and has _never_ liked to fly. 

“I’d really enjoy that,” she insists, voice coming out a little breathless in a way that’s part excitement that Jessika’s suggesting spending time with her and part fear that she might actually have to go flying in one of those huge-but-tiny fighters.

“You just let me know when,” Jessika tells her, and Kaydel leaves the hangar feeling like she’s _floating_.

*

The main complaint around the base about C-3PO seems to be how much he talks. And, yes, he _does_ talk a lot. But Kaydel actually enjoys listening. 

Sometimes C-3PO just likes to ramble, and she’s used to half paying attention, half toying with her work. Other times C-3PO has specific stories he wants to share, and Kaydel always gives those her full attention, because he has the _best_ stories, especially about General Organa.

Okay, so Kaydel might idolise the General a little. Or a lot. Most people from her generation do, at least the ones that have any sense.

C-3PO’s telling her about the attack on Hoth base, which Kaydel’s heard before but doesn’t think she’ll ever get bored of. He’s just gotten to the part of the story where the Imperial Walkers are pressing down against the base’s defences, complete with realistic canon sound effects, when they’re interrupted.

“Wait, what was that about Skywalker?” Jessika asks, making Kaydel jump in surprise.

“Oh, yes, Master Luke was leading the counterattack. Now where was I?” C-3PO says, and Jessika sits on the floor beside Kaydel, leaning back against the wall, all her attention focused on C-3PO’s words.

Kaydel’s attention, on the other hand, is very much caught on how _close_ Jessika is, and on how her scent is a mixture of ozone and engine oil and fresh soap.

When the story is finished, Jessika stretches her arms over her head, her spine curving beneath her tank top. 

“Were you looking for me?” Kaydel asks in a rush, and then awkwardly adds, “To give a report, I mean.”

Jessika runs a hand through her hair. “No reports - I haven’t been anywhere.” She gives Kaydel a lopsided smile. “I just wondered if you’d given any thought to my offer to take you flying?”

Kaydel feels frozen, torn between the nightmare of flying and the dream of being with Jessika.

“Lieutenant Connix _hates_ flying,” C-3PO interjects.

Kaydel’s mouth falls open. Jessika’s eyes widen.

“Lieutenant Connix gets very airsick,” C-3PO continues, blissfully oblivious to Kaydel’s growing mortification or Jessika’s growing confusion. “The last time she and I found ourselves on a transport together she, I quote, ‘almost threw up on General Organa’s boots’.” He gives the mechanical equivalent of a sniff. “It was all rather distasteful - she turned a green colour I’m told is quite unhealthy.”

Kaydel turns to Jessika slowly.

Jessika’s eyebrows are raised so high that her forehead is creased in several different lines. 

“She also thinks starfighters are wretched death-traps flown by people with no regard for their own lives,” C-3PO adds.

“Oh,” Jessika says carefully. “I guess our flight’s out of the question, then?”

Kaydel’s mouth is so, so dry. And still hanging open.

“Well, no problem. I’ll see you ‘round, Connix.” Jessika pushes up easily to her feet, walking away with her hands jammed into her pockets.

Kaydel’s hands cover her mouth. She still can’t make herself close it.

“Was it something I said?” C-3PO asks innocently.

*

Kaydel scrolls through the morning’s reports. Red Squadron are back from escort duty. Commander Dameron has departed on a mission, although the details aren’t listed on Kaydel’s screen. That’s not unusual - some missions are sensitive enough that only a select few have access to them. 

It means Kaydel can’t check to see if the rest of Blue Squadron went out with their Commander, but she figures it’s not really any of her business anyway.

She hasn’t spoken to Jessika since C-3PO accidentally exposed Kaydel as the awful liar she is. There have been a few times she’s glimpsed Jessika around the base, but Kaydel’s always swiftly walked in the other direction.

She should apologise, she _knows_ she should. But she’s not sure she even deserves the opportunity.

The worst part is that she absolutely _would_ have gone up for that flight, she knows that now. Sure, she probably would have humiliated herself, because trying to pretend she was having fun would have been a hard sell when she was actually screaming for her life. But she’d have made the effort, and maybe that would have counted for something.

But now she’ll never have the chance. 

Pamich throws her sympathetic looks and sneaks her some of the more ridiculous articles she finds on the holonet to make Kaydel laugh. Everything’s back to how it was before - Kaydel works hard and Jessika isn’t a part of her life.

It’s just that now her heart hurts all the time.

*

The mess is loud again, Red Squadron celebrating their return. The flasks are being passed around, but Kaydel only knows this because Pamich is keeping up a running commentary of how drunk everyone is getting. 

She can’t bring herself to look at the pilots’ table. Jessika’s seat is probably empty, but Kaydel won’t let herself check.

“Oops, gotta go,” Pamich mutters all of a sudden, and Kaydel blinks at her, bewildered, as Pamich pushes away her dinner and leaves with a wave and a wink.

A moment later Jessika sits down in her empty seat.

“Okay, so you don’t like starfighters,” Jessika says, casually helping herself to Pamich’s abandoned jogan fruit. “How do you feel about _speeders_?”

Kaydel watches the purple flesh of the fruit disappear between Jessika’s lips. She kind of feels like her brain has short-circuited. “Umm, I guess they’re -”

“Pretty?” Jessika supplies, smirking playfully, and Kaydel knows she’s blushing but she can’t stop - she could be in the middle of a snowstorm and her face would still feel just as hot.

Jessika’s talking to her like that whole ‘Kaydel is a hopeless liar’ thing never happened. So Kaydel makes herself take a deep breath, this time determined to tell the truth.

“Speeders aren’t as bad, as long as they stay close to the ground,” she answers honestly. “But I’m still not a fan of them or anything.”

Jessika chews thoughtfully on her mouthful of stolen jogan. “What if I drive real slow?” 

Kaydel narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Have you ever driven _anything_ slow in your entire _life_?”

That gets her a laugh, and Kaydel’s brain throws up even more sparks. “There’s a first time for everything,” Jessika chuckles. “So tomorrow, how about I take you out on a slow speeder ride?”

“I - Okay,” Kaydel agrees, fingers holding on to the edge of the table.

Jessika grins at her. “It’s a date,” she says, snagging the rest of the jogan before she heads across the mess to her usual table.

Kaydel may or may not finish the rest of her meal; she can’t remember as she drifts away from the mess in a daze. Her brain has gone from short-circuit to full-system-shutdown and she doesn’t mind in the slightest.

*

The speeder is an older model, and built to transport six people comfortably. Kaydel’s a little relieved to see it - something like that won’t be able to go very fast at all.

Jessika eases it across the runway, making a few disparaging comments about how unresponsive the controls are, and then they’re trundling along towards the wider fields beyond the forest that rings the base. It’s peaceful, and maybe Kaydel’s gripping her safety harness a little tighter than is strictly necessary, but the bench is narrow and her thigh is pushed up snug against Jessika’s leg.

“You know, you could have told me you hate starfighters,” Jessika assures her. “I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“I don’t _hate_ them,” Kaydel corrects her hurriedly. She stops, biting her lip. “Okay, maybe I hate them a little, but it’s more because I don’t like flying, that’s all.”

Jessika shakes her head. “You don’t like flying,” she sighs, and she shoots Kaydel a look out of the corner of her eye, her smile deliberately teasing. “Guess it’s kind of ridiculous that you ended up with a crush on a _pilot_.”

Kaydel gapes at her. “I - But - _You_ -”

Jessika’s not looking at the controls as she presses buttons, turning to look at Kaydel properly instead. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” she laughs. “After all, it’s just as ridiculous for a pilot like me to end up with a crush on someone who doesn’t like flying.”

Kaydel makes another of those weird squeaking noises, and that’s when Jessika slams the speeder forward across the open field.

It turns out even an older model of speeder can go _very_ fast when Jessika Pava is the one behind the controls.

They do stay close to the ground, thankfully, although Kaydel still ends up screaming for her life. But she ends up laughing too, and clinging to Jessika’s arm, which is probably a terrible idea when Jessika’s the one steering, yet Kaydel can’t make herself let go.

By the time Jessika pulls them to a stop, Kaydel is breathless and giggling, her hair unravelling from its buns and her cheeks burning from the wind. 

Jessika unbuckles her safety harness with one hand, the other gripping Kaydel’s fingers, and she leans across to kiss the laughter from Kaydel’s lips. It’s warm and firm and Kaydel gasps, pushing into it, pulling a little at Jessika’s jacket with her free hand. 

She feels Jessika’s tongue move gently across her palate, and Kaydel makes a helpless noise and shivers happily. Jessika’s fingers have found their way into her hair, messing up Kaydel’s buns even more, their noses brushing as Jessika’s head tilts to make the kiss deeper, hotter, altogether _more_. Kaydel’s chest feels like a furnace beneath her clothes, her heart radiating warmth that spreads through her. 

Jessika’s hand tugs a little at Kaydel’s hair, and the noise she hears herself make in response is embarrassingly needy. She tries to squirm closer, wanting to feel more of Jessika’s body against her, wanting to climb into Jessika’s arms, into her lap, wanting to feel all the ways they can press together. But the straps of her safety harness snap taut around her, keeping her firmly in her seat, and Kaydel moans pitifully when she feels the curve of Jessika’s smile against her lips.

Jessika’s eyes are bright when she pulls back, her thumb stroking Kaydel’s cheek.

“I changed my mind,” Kaydel whispers. “I _do_ want you to take me flying.”

“Any time,” Jessika promises, and kisses her again.

*

That evening, Jessika eats at Kaydel and Pamich’s table. Kaydel lets Jessika steal all her jogan fruit, and Pamich makes no effort to hide her laughter and calls them “cute” approximately seventeen times.


End file.
